


The Art of Moving On

by donutcats



Category: Big Time Rush (TV)
Genre: M/M, but i just couldnt think of anything else to end it with ok, in hindsight its such a stereotypical ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:11:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutcats/pseuds/donutcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’ve been living in some weird liminal space where you can just float around with the feeling of something not quite right between you and James, but doing nothing about it because it’s not the worst, and you can still talk to him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> me, showing up to a dead fandom: hey guys, how's it going. 
> 
> I've written a lot of random little btr things for my friends, but this is the first one I'm actually posting. If you know anything about me or my fics, you know all of them start out as skype convos and I just edit them to sound better. this ended up being vaguely kames and more kendall centric tbh, and the end feels rushed to me but shrug emoji.
> 
> the idea of this fic started with me listening to Art of Moving On by Heffron Drive, which is where the title comes from, and the lyrics in this fic, and I ended up writing and editing while listening to Happy Mistakes on loop, as I'm sure you'll be able to tell.

The band splits up, it's amicable and everyone agrees it was a good ride, but there was still just some weird vague falling out that literally no one can put their finger on, a weird undercurrent of something that doesn’t have a name.

Logan goes to be a doctor, gets accepted to Harvard, Stanford, Johns Hopkins, Yale. If it offered an amazing medical course, Logan was invited with open arms. It took him weeks to decide, all throughout wrapping up everything Big Time Rush related, and even as higher ups talked about the death of the band, they still helped him decide as best as they could. With shaking hands, he ended up choosing Harvard. Because it was the best of the best, and Kendall convinced him he deserved Ivy League. “Start your own legacy,” James jokingly suggested.

Carlos decides to be a stuntman, which really isn't a surprise once you think about it. In between helping Logan do research into each university, he kept throwing around ideas of what he’d do afterwards. One week he wanted to be a famous chef. The next week it was an astronaut. For a few days he was dead set on continuing his own singing career, but quickly decided it just wasn’t for him if the other guys wouldn’t be involved. Finally, after seeing an ad in the Palmwoods lobby, he was completely sold on the stuntman route.  
  
James of course sticks around in Cali to go solo, because singing has been a thrum in his bones since before he could walk. His mom used to joke that he knew how to carry a tune before he ever said his first word. James managed to find himself a new record label and manager, because Gustavo announced that the end of BTR also meant the end of his career. (He was retiring, but he made it sound so melodramatic, and that’s a whole different story.) James scrambled to put together demos and portfolios, figured out how to rent his own apartment and pay his own bills, all in the span of a little under a month. Everyone was proud of James.

Mrs. Knight and Katie stay in California, because Katie wanted to pursue a life of fame and fortune. Not like James though, no Katie wanted to be the big name behind every big project. She had _plans_ , to become the youngest record label owner in history. Katie wanted to be Griffin, basically. Except not as crazy, as she so kindly put it. And if she booked some small time gigs along the way, well that was just a plus.

And Kendall? College sounded nice. The whole hockey thing felt like slipping into a familiar and comfortable tshirt. Being back on the ice was such a welcome feeling. So, he did the college thing, he did the majoring and minoring, the stacks of homework and practicing in the rink. He sticks it out for the 4 years, and all in all he enjoys it.

But, when presented with the opportunity to do more, to be more, something in him just snaps. Maybe it’s the slowly mounting stress from being expected to make a decision that will alter his future forever, or maybe it's because that same vague feeling since the band stopped being a thing is still threaded into his bones. But, every time he has a moment to himself, to let his mind wander, there's the image of James, seared into the back of his eyelids. James and a guitar and whispered words at three in the morning because neither of them could sleep and confessions are so much easier when the world is quiet.

He turns down the team offers, because he loves hockey, he really does, but it doesn't feel like something he wants to dedicate his whole life to. Before btr that's all he thought about, going pro, and once they got to LA it was a way for him to clear his head. It was something he loved doing. But after the band? He spent four practically jam packed, back to back years of his life singing, doing tours and writing songs. It became the norm for him. Sure at times he hated the industry with a burning passion, but the creative process of it all? Kendall found out he loved to write and make things.

Kendall leaves, completely packs his shit and absconds to the East Coast. Just like that, because sure Minnesota isn't exactly sharing a border with California but Boston is even farther away and honestly that's what Kendall needs, he needs an entire fucking country between him and James, even as he continues to take his calls and text him. That same underlying emotion staining every word between them, like they're terrified to go too far from this weird script they’ve cobbled together in the few years.

There’s a nice little apartment close to Boston that he finds, it's the first time he's really ever lived alone, and it's a fucking _experience_ if he's being honest. Most of his life he’s lived with his mom and his sister, and then he was packed into an apartment with his family, his best friends. College wasn't much different, there was a dorm and a roommate and everything was basically already paid for.

Now though, there's bills and rent and buying actual furniture. Kendall simultaneously loves it and hates it. He doesn’t get how James got it all together in a little under a month. He asks him all the time though, texts about how to do certain things, and he gets second opinions from his mom when he feels James is just being _James_ and decidedly unhelpful.

On the third day, as he fumbles to hold a box and open his door at the same time, the guy down the hall from him smiles and offers to help. He even tries to flirt with Kendall, an hour or so later and in the middle of stacking boxes into the corner of Kendall’s kitchen. But there's this moment where 3C guy is smiling, and the light from a random ass lamp that Kendall found and plugged in casts a shadow at just the right angle. For a split second Kendall swears to anybody willing to listen that James was in the room with him. 3C's eyes are blue though, and his hair is messier, but the glint of teeth and the quirk of a smile feels like an 18 wheeler to the chest.

Kendall only realizes he completely shut down in the middle of a conversation long after 3C is gone and he's laying on his air mattress staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzes, and the irony of the numbers on the clock are not lost on him when he sees James' name, completely forgetting the time difference because he's _James_.

_hows the whole moving thing going?_

Kendall resists the urge to dial James and just- what? pour out his fucking heart over a weird experience he had with a cute guy that reminded him too much of a certain person on the other end of the phone. Another buzz, this time just a text of a stupid emoji that's popular, and a weird feeling settles in Kendall's chest, a warm balm that soothes the ache the 18 wheeler left in it's wake of long legs and a pop rock tank top walking down the hall.

_do u even look at the time before texting me ever? fuck off & go to sleep _

He means to follow his own advice, to fuck off and sleep, but he keeps his phone close, waiting for the inevitable buzz- and there it is. _winky kissy face_. God damn. He shuts his phone off and rolls over, one hand on his chest, curled into the fabric of his tshirt.

Kendall really wishes there was more advice for moving on from something that was never completely even a thing. A promise of a thing. Maybe. Almost. What if.

 

===

 

Kendall’s favorite thing in his entire apartment, is the guitar Gustavo gave him. It was a parting gift, each of the guys got their own, in between Not Crying and insulting words that held no bite, Gustavo explained that he had the terrible thought while working on little to no sleep, to get them customized instruments to always remember Roque Records. Then he slept and was well rested, but by then the orders were already put through so it turns out he was fucked.

Kendall smiled because the entire explanation had a very fond tone to it. Even Kelly was shaking her head and trying to hide a smile of her own.

Gustavo handed him the guitar, with a sniff that was probably meant to be a scoff but sounded more like sadness. "I hope you dogs like your presents. They're the last you'll be getting from me!"

"You shouldn't have," Kendall replied dryly, already turning the guitar this way and that, really taking it in.

His favorite part, which arguably is also the tackiest, is how Gustavo decided to be cheeky as fuck and make the pick guard a plaid pattern of dark green and blue.

(later, when he asked about it, Gustavo simply said; "well apparently they couldn't staple of square of straight flannel to the thing, so I had to settle for that. _tch_ , what am I paying them for? not to half ass things that's for sure.")

Kendall loves it to death. It's one of the few things he still has from that excerpt of his life. It's a souvenir, the sort with no strings or bad memories attached. Like he said, It's the best thing in his apartment.

When he's not working, he lazes around, strumming away and thinking up melodies on the spot. It's a weird type of game he's made up for himself, trying to think of new sounds that don't sound anything like btr.

Which is how he starts slowly filling up a notebook with lyrics. Because he still hasn't really made any friends, he doesn't have anyone to hang out with or things to go to, he has free time galore. The friends he does have he can talk to over the phone or Skype.

And maybe he's becoming a bit of a shut in, as his mom calls it. But most great artists are mom, you don't understand. He completely ignores the little voice in his head that continues to tell him that this is not the best way to deal with a _Maybe_.

It was just warm breath and soft lips and a gentle chord progression. It didn't even last that long. It was chaste, chasing the heels of quiet voices in the semi darkness illuminated only by a very shitty tap light.

It felt like something though, so fuck you tiny rational voice. It was very clearly a _moment_ , that left Kendall breathless and too warm and his mind racing too fast for him to catch up with. Something shifted and it was important god dammit.

But then James sends Kendall a snap, of him standing and making a very stereotypical model face, _tfw ur just too pretty_ , as the caption, and then another almost immediately after, _oh jeez I hope I'm not prettier than my date that would be #awkward_

Either James is a super fucking pro at lying, to both Kendall and himself, (debatable), or it really didn't mean a thing and Kendall is just strung up on the infamous what if, (plausible).

So Kendall writes all of his thoughts down, trying to string them together into something that makes sense. He writes in between meals, in between his shifts at work, he writes until his fingers and his heart are hurting, until the clock ticks over to three am and for some reason he can never bring himself to continue.

Once in awhile James will text him at three am and a small part of Kendall wants to think it means something. The larger part just says James doesn't fuck with time zones and is wide awake at midnight Cali time.

Waiting for those nights would be pathetic, and Kendall Knight is not pathetic. But he still can't bring himself to shut off his phone until after three in the morning, until he gets a text or none at all. He doesn't wait, not obsessively, but he does passively linger until the routine he's become used to has been fulfilled.

It sounds so much better when Kendall adds bigger and better words. Because he's not pathetic.

 

===

  
  
The cell phone is cradled between his shoulder and ear, as he walks around his bedroom, trying his best to fold and put away clothes.

“Does it feel weird to you?” Kendall asks, in the middle of a lull as he listens to Logan shuffle through papers.

"Does what feel weird?"

"You know, living in such a, normal house? Like, for sixteen years of my life I lived in a normal place, where my mom did her best to follow the advice from Martha Stewart Home and Living magazine, but then- man 2J happened."

"I feel like there's going to be a point to this."

"Shut up. So like, even though four years is nothing compared to sixteen, 2J just became the standard that I hold everything else to. The other day I was shopping for furniture and I had to stop myself from buying a green couch. A fucking _lime green_ couch Logan, cause I thought it was normal! It's not!” Kendall drops the shirt he was trying to fold, straightening up and fully holding the phone to his ear. “Living in an apartment that looks straight out of a kids show, like a pack of 64 crayons exploded, isn't normal!"

"You've been bottling this up for a while, haven't you?" Logan sighs, fondness clearly evident.

"God, 2J was so far from normal, but sixteen year old me thought it was the coolest fucking place."

"The swirly slide _was_ cool." The fondness melts away into something more accusatory, as if even thinking the swirly side wasn’t cool is some sort of offense. In their world, it actually kind of is.

"Ok yeah, you have a point there. I can’t argue with that."

 

===

 

_I’m tired, can we give up / the art of, moving on, on, on._

The words hang in the air, as Kendall chews on his lip and pulls his notebook closer, scribbling something down in the margins.

"Has anyone told you that you're a mopey son of bitch?" Logan's voice filters through the speakers of Kendall's laptop. Logan is sort of squinting at him, a book resting on his knee. "Because you are. The biggest."

Kendall sighs, a sort of anguished gust of air. "Katie has, multiple times."

"Katie always knows what she's talking about." The book cracks open and Logan is back to reading. This is what he does every time they skype, and maybe it would be rude if they were anybody else, but they're best friends, basically brothers, and there's a comfort that comes from just being able to sit in an amicable sort of silence while they each do their own thing and make idle conversation.

Kendall tries a few more chords, scribbles some more, tests out the way the words flow. _"It keeps me up all night, all night. ooooh."_

 _"Pathetic."_ Logan practically harmonizes, finger bookmarking his place. "Seriously dude, I don't know what the hell is going on with you and James, but you have to sort it out."

"Who said it was about James?" His voice is unconvincing even to his own ears, as he idly plucks at a few strings.

"It's always James." The sound skips just a bit, and Logan's picture lags, but then it snaps back and he's sitting up fully, facing the screen head on. "Man, for as long as I can remember, it's always been _JamesandKendall_ \- one word no spaces. And, I might be naive sometimes Kendall, but I am not stupid."

"You're the smartest person I know." It's an automatic, before the other words even sink in, because the idea that Logan could be stupid was absolutely ridiculous. Logan really was the smartest person Kendall knew- well, sans Katie. But, those are two different sets of smarts. Logan was the type of smart that retained information from text books. Katie was the type of smart that was classified as _clever_. The type you should be down right afraid of.

"Thank you. That's not the point though, the point is you and James need to sort your shit out. I don't care how you do it, but it needs to happen, because you're both just off."

"Wait, what's going on with James?"

Logan actually rolls his eyes at the speed in which Kendall asked that. "I should really make you ask him yourself. He's just, not completely James. Just like you're not completely Kendall. So, work it out. I need to go to sleep at a reasonable hour because I actually don't want to be booted from my residency. Stop being mopey. Goodnight."

"Yeah, night."

Logan hangs up first, leaving Kendall staring at the chat screen. As if on cue, he gets a new message from James. A little orange 1 appears next to the contact _attention whore_ , a kissy face and a sparkles emoji can be seen in the preview of the message.

Kendall sighs, again, even more anguished than before.

 

===

 

Carlos visits him one weekend, because it feels like forever since they’ve seen each other. Kendall ignores the fact that he’s hardly interacted with James at all, besides texting and various other social media apps.

“Bro, your vague depression is screwing with me, so hard. Can we please just, play some Mario Kart.”

"I _am_ playing Mario Kart!"

"James keeps texting you and your eyes go all heart shaped for like 0.2 seconds and then you look like someone killed your cat right in front of you."

"...that is such a terrible description, one I never thought I'd hear from your mouth."

"I was trying to go for like, the most depressing thing I could think of. I made myself sad."

The match ends a few minutes later, Carlos calling it a bittersweet victory. After, Carlos ends up finding Kendall’s music notebook, sipping a juice box while he flips through it. "It's all so sappy. How do you even _think_ of words and sentences like this. _Could you be home?_ Man, I don't even have to look at the lyrics to know it's terrible cheesy."

"Shut up," Kendall mumbles, around the straw of his own juice box.

He continues to look through the pages, muttering every so often, "terrible, terrible, the worst."

"Alright Carlos, that's enough." Kendall reaches over, plucking the book from Carlos’ hand that’s not clutching the juicebox.

"Why don't you just tell James you love him?"

" _Excuse me_?" It’s asked so casually, the surprise of it all makes Kendall almost choke on his fruit punch.

"People don't think so, but I notice things," Carlos sucks at the last of the juice, the box going concave in his efforts. "I notice the way you guys look at each other, and the way you've both been really off ever since btr stopped being a thing."

Kendall just sighs heavily and lays back on the floor.

After a few moments, Carlos lays down next to Kendall, head fitting close to Kendall’s, as he carefully takes the juice box from his hands, finishing off what's left. "It'll all be ok, my dude."

"How do you know?"

“Cause, when I was sixteen, I was worried that I wouldn't do anything cool with my life, that I'd stick around Smalltown while I watched my best friends go off and become famous doctors and singers and hockey players. I'd probably inherit Ms. Magicowski’s house because she has no other family, probably manage the Sherwood Supermarket too. You know, normal boring things. Now though, I'm like a super awesome stunt guy that gets to do so many cool awesome things, and I got to be in a super cool band." Carlos turns his head towards Kendall, chin knocking into Kendall's shoulder as he beams a smile. "See, things turn out pretty ok."  
  
Kendall blinks up at the ceiling. “At least we wouldn't have forgot to shovel Ms. Magicowski’s yard if you lived there," he replies, voice dry.

Carlos bursts into laughter, turning his entire body to press his face fully into Kendall's shoulder.

A little bit later, Kendall finds his face pressed into Carlos' side, arms tucked close to his chest as Carlos idly runs a hand through his hair. It was calming, to have someone so close and know there were no strings attached, no complicated emotions, just the warm feeling of a familial love.

"How did I end up with such an amazing friend like you?”

He can hear Carlos yawn, his arms stretching up and out, like a cat on the floor. "Third grade. I ran head first into you, and you were the one who told me I should get a helmet."

"Ah, right. how could I forget. You were _so close_ to giving me a concussion."

Carlos shifts, rolling to wrap his arms fully around Kendall, seemingly uncaring that he crushes Kendall's head closer. "And we've been peas in a pod ever since."

 

===

 

The sink in the kitchen likes to clog sometimes, not frequently enough to be too much of an annoyance, and Kendall prides himself on the fact that he can fix it. More or less. It's a temporary fix, but hey, he's learned enough from Buddha Bob to know that a good plunger can ward off most plumbing hazards.

Maybe one day he'll call an actual professional to permanently fix his sink. Today is not that day though, and he can hear Jo laugh to herself, on the other side of the world but thanks to modern technology she's able to sit and watch Kendall pretend to be a plumber.

"Instead of laughing at me," Kendall huffs out, dropping the plunger to grab up his trusty screwdriver, sticking it down the drain and fiddling around, as if he knows what he's doing, "you could, I dunno, cheer me on?"

"What would be the point in that? You're doing just fine." Her face scrunches up as she smiles at him, purposefully comical and trying to make him laugh. Which he does, because no matter their history, Kendall can't help but look at Jo as a friend above everything else. Because after everything they've gone through, Jo can still look at him and smile.

Kendall narrows his eye at her, holding his gaze just long enough for Skype to pick it up, until she's giggling even harder, and then he turns back to his sink, wiggling the screwdriver around.

After they broke up, for the second time, Jo was adamant about staying friends. She gave him a long speech about how, just because it didn't work romantically doesn't mean it can't work platonically. It sounded like something she thought about and practiced, her words confident and smooth. Towards the end her voice wavered though, as Kendall continued to say nothing. She finished it all explaining how they can't keep trying to cobble together a love story when they're both so busy with their own lives. He was on the cusp of another tour, and Jo landed a show that required her to film in places like New Zealand and Iceland.

Finally, when she was finally done, Kendall took her hand, which was nervously picking at her shirt, and smiled. He understood, he honestly got it, and he told her as much. The only other people he's ever felt as close to are the guys, and he wouldn't want to lose her for anything. They just, clicked, in a way Kendall could never really explain. Just because the whole dating thing between them never really manages to find it's footing, doesn't mean they stop clicking.

Jo is the person Kendall can rely on to be a completely sort of unbiased third party. He can count on her to actually look him in the eye and tell Kendall that he's being an absolute dick and he needs to chill out. Not saying that Carlos or Logan or James has never called him out before, but sometimes Kendall just needs someone to casually let him know exactly how terrible he's being while they eat a bowl of ice cream.

That actually reminds Kendall. "Did I tell you about the last time Carlos visited?"

"He beat you in Mario Kart."

Kendall scowls, taking his attention away from the clog to once again glare at Jo. She just smiles in return. "That's not what I was talking about."

"Oh, oops."

"Mm. I meant, afterwards, when he thought it'd be a great idea to try and bungee jump off of my balcony. By the way, you've seen my balcony. It's a fucking fire escape!" Kendall waves his screwdriver around, for emphasis.

"You didn't let him do it, did you?"

"Of course not, Jo. I have a _brain_." Kendall leans against the counter, closer to his laptop so he can really get his point across to Jo.

She called in the middle of his monthly project, so he hasn't had a good look at her until now. Jo's hair is piled on top of her head, and she's wearing no makeup. It must be a day off, Kendall thinks. With the type of life that the industry requires, days off always equal lazy days. As she rolls her eyes at him, she grabs a smoothie from off screen.

"And then," Kendall barrels on, arms folded in front of his laptop. "When I tell Logan, he bitches at me about how I should know better than to let Carlos around any sort of bungee cords. As if I actually let him Pocahontas dive off of my fire escape!"

Jo hums a reply, too busy sucking at her smoothie straw. It's thick and pink, and Kendall smiles at the thought that he had a hand in getting yet another person addicted to pink smoothies. "How's James doing?" She asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

The words take a second to register in Kendall's mind, as he blinks at the screen and Jo's ever rising eyebrow. "He's, good." The eyebrow ticks even higher. "I mean, I talk to him all the time."

"Like, on the phone?"

"If you mean constant texting, then yes."

"Have you actually seen him Kendall, like face to face since you guys said goodbye at the airport?"

Kendall wasn't going to correct her, to tell her that James wasn't actually there at the airport. That the last time they saw each other was in Kendall's room late at night, a guitar between them, a whole three days before the date on Kendall's plane ticket.

"Nope," Kendall pops the the word, eyes cutting towards his sink so he doesn't have to look at Jo. "He's busy and shit. Being all super famous, _James Diamond_ , with a breakout solo album and a second summer tour on the horizon."

Jo hums another reply, head tilting to the side as if the explanation is valid. "You guys should really hang out more. I remember you used to be inseparable. Don't let growing _up_ mean growing _apart_."

It's Kendall's turn to hum, as he moves back to the sink drain, screwdriver still in hand.

Whenever Kendall thinks he's doing good, talking and laughing and enjoying his fucking life, somehow the topic always shifts back to James. Really, he shouldn't be surprised, they've known each other since third grade.

They used to hold hands in the playground, make blanket forts in Kendall's living room. James sang to him, late at night, when his dad left. Kendall returned the favor, when James' parents were going through the divorce, even though he wasn't a fan of singing back then, all because James needed the distraction.

Logan was right, it's always been _KendallandJames_ for as long as he can remember. Logan and Carlos were like brothers to him, they were a part of who Kendall was, but James. James is something different, something held separate from the other two.

James knows why anger is the base emotion for almost everything Kendall does, Kendall knows why _better_ is a state of being for James, because they were both there when things crumbled and those emotions were cultivated.

The screwdriver startles Kendall as it falls from his hand, clattering against the metal of the sink. "Jo, do you think I'm in love with James?" The question startles him even more, as his head whips around to look at Jo, still sitting on the other side of the world. He doesn't know why he asks, the words punching out of him, but it feels like the right sort of question once it's out there.

 _"What?"_ Jo almost chokes on her smoothie.

"I just-" Kendall's voice stumbles, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. "You've never lied to me Jo, not once since I've met you. I need," Kendall reminds himself to breathe, as his mind catches up with his mouth. "I just need you to be honest with me."

Jo pauses, smoothie held close to her chest. "I think," she starts, slowly, picking her words, "it's more of what _you_ feel, Kendall. It doesn't really matter what I think."

"It does matter."

"No," and now she sets the cup down, shifting to better face the screen. "What I think and what you feel are two very different things. I _will_ tell you what I know."

Kendall's fingers tighten around the lip of the counter, and if he listens, he can hear the faint tick of the stupid clock he bought from a consignment shop, hung on his wall.

"I know that you either need to move on, or face it."

"That's it? That’s what you _know_?"

Jo nods, a small smile curling at her mouth. "That's it. My sage advice."

"That’s shitty advice. As if I didn’t know that." Kendall sighs deeply, as he reaches for the plunger once again.

“From my point of view, you didn’t. You’ve been living in some weird liminal space where you can just float around with the feeling of something not quite right between you and James, but doing nothing about it because it’s not _the worst_ , and you can still talk to him.” Jo shrugs at the end of her ‘advice’, once again grabbing for her smoothie.  
  
“Liminal?” Kendall mumbles as he picks up the plunger, because honestly that sounds like such a Logan word.

“Google it, space cowboy.”

 

===

 

Carlos insists on all the guys meeting up again, as a small reunion sort of deal, since they haven't all been in the same place at once in years.

Kendall really wants to say no, because while people see Kendall Knight as a king amongst men, as a brave leader, he's actually so fucking cowardly at times. Hello, his entire idea on how to deal with problems is to run from them.  
  
Plus, he’s pretty sure this all a thinly veiled attempt to get him and James together, face to face. He’ll have to have a serious talk about meddling in other people’s business with Carlos later. The thought that there’s an extra agenda makes him want to kick and scream even harder, refusing to give into the weird talks he’s had with his friends all throughout the year.  
  
(Even Katie got in on it, in the very blunt way of hers. It wasn’t like everyone else, who laid it out and gave him advice. Katie just told him flat out to get his shit together because she’s sick and tired of hearing her brother be sad, and actively having to watch James be a weird muted tone of his normal self. And then she hung up on him.)

But, Logan of course gets to him. "It's Carlos, you can't say no to Carlos. What, do you also kick puppies in your spare time? Push old ladies into the street?"

So, Kendall agrees, albeit reluctantly, because he really doesn’t like people pushing him to do things. They all meet up in some small house Carlos apparently rented for the occasion in New York, because LA is sort of hard to get to when both Kendall and Logan live on the east coast and are sort of broke as fuck.

When he first catches sight of James, walking in the door with a pack of beer tucked under his arm and his shoulders shaking in laughter as Carlos greets him, Kendall immediately texts Logan, who's standing only five feet away. _I would rather stab myself in the neck holy fuck._

_calm down, christ._

Kendall makes a face at his phone and stuffs it into his pocket, as he almost unconsciously starts searching the nearby counters for anything sharp enough to get the job done. Don't ever say Kendall isn't creative, because by the time James has made his way over, Kendall has already thought of at least four different ways to end it all with a spork.

James sidles up to Kendall at the same time Kendall is furiously trying to snap off one of the spork tines so it'll be easier to puncture his fucking throat, because honestly like, death would be such a better time than James _smiling_ at him like that.

"Oh, uh, hey there James."

"Hey. How’s it going?" James raises an eyebrow at the scene before him; Kendall with wide eyes and a mangled spork clutched in his hands.

"Peachy."

"The spork?"

"I was just, fiddling around with it."

"Mm-hm. Don't hurt yourself," James chuckles, a warm sound tumbling from his lips, and Kendall honestly wonders if a spork of all things could end it quickly. Or at least, quick enough.

As James' lips quirk at the edges, Kendall can hear a very small voice in the back of his head that sounds too much like Logan, explaining the amount of pressure he'd have to apply and how long it would take, for such a blunt object to do any sort of damage.

Well, if James leaves him alone for a handful of hours, Kendall is nothing if not stubborn. He'd get it done. James continues to stand there though, so he reluctantly drops the spork, instead plucking up a bottle of beer that he vaguely remembers Carlos leaving for him.

Death isn't an option. So, plan b. Get wasted. Or as close as he can.

There are always two fool proof ways to deal with a problem. Alcohol, and running. Death is only really for the most serious of terrible problems.

"Is everything ok?" James asks, almost tentatively after he watches Kendall suck down half the bottle.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?" It's an automatic response, biting and too quick for Kendall to filter. After the words are out, after James' face twists in confusion, Kendall regrets them.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean," Kendall pauses, stares down the narrow neck of his beer bottle, trying to think how he wants to go about this. He could back track, smooth it out and forget he said anything at all, or he could plow forward. Get it over with. "Between us, are we good? Are things- ok?"

It's James' turn to pause, hands stuffed into his pockets as he turns his head to the side, watching Logan and Carlos wrestle over a silly straw.

"Yeah," he looks back to Kendall, dipping his head the inch to meet Kendall's eyes, "I mean, unless you don't think we're fine?" He sounds genuinely worried, like maybe Kendall doesn't feel perfectly fine with whatever weird tension is between them now.

"Things are," another pause, as if they're both just wishing for the silence to swallow them whole, "things are alright. Maybe not, _good_ , but." Kendall blows out a breath, leaning back against the table. "Things will probably end up being perfectly fine sooner or later."

James shuffles closer, head still slightly tipped. "How can I make things-" he stops himself, mouth thinning, as if he’s trying to best pick his words. "I want to make things better, quicker. How can I do that?"

"I don't know, James." Kendall finishes off his beer, the empty bottle clicking against the table as he pushes it away. "If I knew, we probably would've been having this talk way earlier."

James stays silent for a minute or two, saying nothing as he stands in Kendall's space, staring at what Kendall guesses are their shoes. The sole of Kendall's worn vans press up against the expensive looking leather of James' boot. Kendall wonders if he can find a metaphor in this.

"Carlos told me you've been writing songs." James finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet.

Kendall is a little surprised, startled out of his thoughts so suddenly, his words tripping over themselves as he answers. "Oh yeah. Just, little things, here and there. I haven't even finished an entire song yet but-"

"Can I hear one?"

"What?"

James shrugs, one of his hands slipping out of a pocket to run through his hair. "I don't know how to make things better but, I really want to see what you've been working on. Maybe, it could be a start?"

 

===

 

They sit in the dim light of Kendall's living room, with Kendall idly strumming at his guitar and James flipping through Kendall's notebook.

If it was anyone else, it'd probably feel like a breach of privacy, but it's James, and, on some level it feels like James should already know what those words say, chicken scratch handwriting spelling out the things Kendall has been feeling for god knows how long.

"What about this one? _Art of Moving On_?"

Kendall shakes his head, practically before James is even done asking. "I'm, not finished with that one."

"Oh, well. Alright then." James' brows furrow, as he quickly scans the rest of the lyrics, before flipping the page, continuing to look. "Then, _Division of the Heart_? I like the sound of that one."

"It's like you have a sixth sense for the songs that cause me the most pain." Kendall mumbles under his breath, already plucking at the strings, starting the melody.

"What?"

"Nothing."  
  
Kendall closes his eyes, easily remembering the lyrics without having to look at his notebook. He wonders if it was true, if James really did have a sixth sense for all of the songs that were written about him.

Knowing James, he probably _does_ have a sense about anything that remotely involves him.

_“I can't sleep without the lights on, It's like I'm broken when you're gone.”_

 

===

 

James listens to Kendall sing, and honestly he missed it, so much. There was something powerful in Kendall's voice, something that James could never find in himself. He remembers when they were younger, when all James thought about was being a star, when he devoted every minute of his eight year old life to getting better.

Then, he heard Kendall sing, casually, along with the radio while in the car. Mama Knight laughed, and turned the song up, announcing it was Kendall's favorite. Kendall flushed, but his voice grew, matching the volume of the music coming out of the speakers and James was blown away.

People always told him he had a beautiful voice. Angelic, clear and crystalline, as his instructor once worded it. But Kendall, there was something so different about Kendall's voice, even when they were little. Kendall’s voice reminded James of campfires and coffee shops. He can’t put his finger on the _why_ of the comparisons, only that he gets the same warm feeling in his chest.

They grew up, James' voice stayed angelic, and Kendall's continued to grow.

The way Kendall could so easily belt out a tune whenever he felt like it, it filled James with pride.

Now was no different, as they sat in his small living room, dimly lit by a lamp that was obviously from some sort of goodwill. Who else would want a lamp so tacky? That was besides the point.

The point was, James couldn't fully focus as Kendall repeats the chorus, words about coming home. He couldn't focus when the lyrics of a song that got Kendall so flustered at just the mention of the title sat in front of him.

No one ever said James Diamond has self control, so he skims through the pages, tries to feel out the beat that Kendall must have put the words to. James only realizes he's humming when the sounds of the guitar cut off.

"What are you doing?"

James looks up, sees Kendall's eyes wide, hand as if it's reaching forward to snatch the notebook away. Something spurs him to lean away, look back at the page and open his mouth.

" _If there’s a world where you could be mine, well that’s where I’d live_ -" Kendall's hand stops at the sound of James' singing. "That’s, a really nice lyric. And is this the chorus? _I’m tired can we give up, the art of moving on_?"

"Uh."

"Who's the song about?" James isn’t sure why he asks, but it feels important. It feels like this song should mean something to him. Songs are always about someone. He knows that from experience.

" _Uh_." Kendall looks like a frightened animal, eyes darting around, as if he's calculating the best escape route. "It's just-” his voice stumbles, and it’s such an odd thing. To see Kendall of all people, stripped of confidence. “It’s about someone, you know. A person. That I can’t- move on from.”  

James is quiet, thinking, like back at the place Carlos rented. Because James needs time to think, to really think. About serious matters. James knows that he's not exactly the guy people would associate with the topic of 'serious thoughts’, but he can have them. He’s just, slower to roll them around in his head, to make sure they're exactly how he wants them.

Kendall sits, quietly, as James furrows his eyebrows at the pages, as he follows the words with his finger, mouthing along.  
  
_It keeps me up all night_ , and maybe it's cliche, but, the lyric seems to stick in his mouth. James frequently gets the sudden urge to snatch up his phone, to text at what he absolutely knows is three in the morning Kendall time. The texts he sends never hold weight to them, they’re always small comments here and there, about his day, prodding to see if Kendall is still awake. He always is, ready with a reply, and that has to _mean something._  
  
James’ finger continues to skip through the song, verses fitting together in his head as Kendall watches, chewing on his lip. Something clicks, snaps right into place, and James isn’t exactly sure what it is. But suddenly, he remembers years ago, Kendall’s lips and a quiet confession of _what if_.

The idea that the same thing that’s been burrowed under James’ skin for four years sits in Kendall’s bones as well, it’s like a punch to the chest.

Before he lets himself think too much more, or else he'll get into Over Thinking territory which is Logan's speciality, James drops the notebook and rushes forward, grabbing Kendall by the face.

"I've always been super shitty at moving on too."

Kendall has enough time to make some sort of noise in reply, gearing up to say something, but James cuts it off, pressing their lips together.


End file.
